


A Silver Lining

by AlwaysVictory



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, F/M, Fantasy, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysVictory/pseuds/AlwaysVictory
Summary: An old woman once told him that he would meet his true love in the wake of a great tragedy. Unbelieving, he’d long forgotten the fortune-teller’s words—until he met her.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 28
Kudos: 114
Collections: May the Fourth be With You 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Star Wars Day! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury, and Scholastic respectively. Star Wars is owned by Lucasfilm and Disney. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me, and I make no profit from this story.
> 
> Many thanks to my amazingly wonderful alpha/beta reader Insanity-Red.

When Luke was eighteen years old, he and his uncle Owen went to Anchorhead to buy some supplies. It was just their average, boring supply run, nothing unusual about it. 

Until an old woman grabbed Luke’s arm, just above the wrist. Startled, he automatically jerked away, but her grip didn’t even budge—this only shocked him further, given how scrawny her fingers looked. She didn’t say anything for a few, long seconds, and Luke, increasingly uncomfortable, searched for his uncle. He found him just a little way down the street, negotiating with a junk dealer over some spare parts. 

“Can I help you?” said Luke, still trying to tug his arm out of her iron grasp. 

The woman looked at him, or perhaps _ through  _ him, with strangely blank eyes. There was something unusual about her gaze, and he felt as if she could see inside him and read his thoughts. 

“Luke Skywalker,” the woman said finally, her voice deeper and stronger than he had imagined. 

Goosebumps erupted all over Luke’s body. He certainly hadn’t told her his name—and he was pretty sure that his uncle hadn’t said it since they’d entered the town, either. 

Luke tugged harder, but the woman still did not relinquish her hold. 

“You will find your true love in the wake of a tragedy,” she continued. 

“What?” said Luke, continuing his attempts to free himself. “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else, and—”

“She’s coming,” the woman insisted. 

And Luke realized what was so unusual about her eyes—she was blind. 

“Who’s coming?” he asked, thoroughly confused. “You’re making no sense.” 

“Soon,” she said, unhelpfully. 

She was silent for a few heartbeats, withdrawn. Seemingly lost in her own little world.

Then she repeated, “You will find your true love in the wake of a tragedy, and she’s coming. Soon.”

She let go of him, and Luke, who’d never stopped his attempts to pull away from her, stumbled backwards. He dropped his bag. When he picked it up and turned to the old woman, questions bubbling on his lips, she was gone. 

He looked around for her, but it was as if she’d never been there. As if he’d simply imagined their conversation. If you could even call that a conversation. It was more like her talking  _ at  _ him, and him being all confused about her cryptic words. 

She hadn’t seemed all there,  _ and  _ she was blind—a quick getaway didn’t seem very plausible. So  _ had  _ he imagined her then? Luke had dreamed up many epic battles, and races, and adventures—he’d have gone loopy in the desert without some way to entertain himself—but to conjure up an old woman who’d talk to him about true love? He didn’t know much about love (at least, not the romantic kind), let alone _ true love _ , and he wasn’t even sure if he believed in it.

Not to mention the downside she’d mentioned—who’d be in the mood for new love after tragedy? 

His uncle called for him. Luke sighed, giving his head a shake, and rejoined his uncle. 

“We have a couple more stops to make,” said his uncle, leading the way. 

Luke silently followed him, still thinking about the strange old woman and her words. 

_ Am I going crazy? _ he wondered. 

He didn’t think he was. But then again, if someone  _ was _ going crazy, would they be able to tell? Luke didn’t know. 

He’d heard and read about prophecies and fortune-tellers and seers, but he’d never actually met one. He hadn’t thought he ever would. To him, they were a myth, a bedtime story, fruits of someone’s overactive imagination. 

But the old woman had seemed and felt real enough. He glanced down at his wrist, rubbing over the pale red marks where her fingers had dug in. 

Not knowing what to think, Luke heaved another sigh and focused on helping his uncle. By the time they returned home, the incident was a mere afterthought, and he got on with his life. On more boring occasions, the thought of it drifted across his mind. But it happened less, and less. 

And one day, he simply didn’t think about it anymore. 

* * *

Luke quietly gazed out the cockpit window of the  _ Millenium Falcon, _ watching the Star Destroyer get ever bigger as it closed in on them. 

_ Luke _ , Vader’s voice rang in his ears, _ it is your destiny. _

Luke fought to silence it.

“Ben,” he whispered in anguish, “why didn’t you tell me?”

Lando busily adjusted some controls, and Chewie leapt from his chair to race toward the hold. Leia took the now-empty seat and helped Lando as they maneuvered the ship. The TIE fighters were buzzing around them like a swarm of insects, and every second felt like another one closer to being shot down. 

“Chewie!” Lando yelled. “Check the secondary deviation controls!”

In response, the Wookie roared in frustration, banging a tool against the metal. 

Despite their best efforts to shed the fighters, the _ Falcon  _ was hit. The cockpit control panel spewed a shower of sparks over the two pilots, and they jerked back in their seats. Leia let out a sound of utter disgust at the situation, but Lando simply stared out the window with a sunken expression. 

Luke barely noticed. His head was weighed down by pain and confusion, and his gaze kept travelling to the place where his right hand should be. He felt as if his world were ending. It was over. It was all over. All the training, all the fighting—it was all for nothing. The people he trusted had lied to him. He’d lost his right hand and his lightsaber. And he was Vader’s son. Vader’s son! It was impossible. It  _ had _ to be a lie. 

But somehow Luke didn’t think it was. He _ felt  _ the truth in Vader’s words. 

He needed confirmation. (He needed someone to tell him it wasn’t true.) 

“Ben,” he called desperately, “tell me Vader lied.”

The _ Falcon _ lurched as the Star Destroyer's tractor beam locked onto them. 

“They’ve got us,” Lando said as he began shutting down the  _ Falcon _ ’s engines. 

“What are you doing?” Leia exclaimed angrily. “Why are you turning off the engines? We can’t just give up!”

“What do you want me to do?” Lando retorted. “That tractor beam is twice as powerful as our engines and—”

A beeping of the console interrupted him. 

“Another ship is dropping out of lightspeed!” said Leia, checking the readings. 

“Another blasted Star Destroyer?” asked Lando. 

“No,” replied Leia, her voice suddenly hopeful, “it’s one of ours.”

A small cruiser abruptly appeared where moments ago there’d been nothing but a black void. 

“How did they find us?” asked Lando.

“I sent a message,” said Leia.

“When?”

“On our way here. Something didn’t feel right about this _Lando_ , a friend of Han’s, that he went way back with.” She paused and threw him a scathing look. “And for a good reason, it turns out!”

“I was coerced!” Lando protested.

“Oh, stuff it, you—”

The _ Falcon _ ’s comms came to life, and through a blanket of static, a female’s voice filled the cockpit,  _ “Leia? Please tell me you’re on that ship.” _

“Hermione!” Leia said, relieved. “Oh, Hermione. It’s so good to hear your voice!”

_ “Likewise, my friend. Just hold on! Help is on the way.” _

About half a dozen of X-wings and one unusual-looking ship emerged from the cruiser and began attacking the TIE fighters. Their pilots were good, and their aim was true. One of them fired a shot that disabled the Star Destroyer’s tractor beam, releasing the  _ Falcon _ from its prison. 

_ “Head to the cruiser,” _ instructed Hermione.  _ “We’ll cover you.” _

“You heard her,” said Leia, turning to Lando. “Let’s go!”

Through the cockpit window, Luke watched the battle raging outside as Leia and Lando navigated the _ Falcon _ towards the cruiser. He didn’t know how he knew this, but he was sure that the woman, Hermione, was the one piloting the unusual-looking ship. 

The silver vessel was about twice the size of an X-wing—all sleek, and elegant, and very deadly. It took out more of the enemy fighters than any of the X-wings. 

“That’s the _ Gryffindor _ ,” confirmed Leia, as if reading his mind, “Hermione’s ship.”

“Who is she?” asked Luke, feeling  _ something _ through the Force, but unsure exactly what. 

“She’s with the Rebellion and she’s my friend,” replied Leia. 

“Yes,” said Lando, “we already gathered that much.”

“That’s all you need to know,” said Leia, shrugging her shoulders. “If she wants you to know more, she’ll share that herself.”

The  _ Falcon _ successfully made it into the cruiser’s belly, and soon after, the cruiser jumped to lightspeed. While Lando shut down all the engines, Leia fetched a blanket and put it around Luke’s shoulders. 

“Come on,” she said, helping him on his feet. “Let’s find the medical bay and get you some help.”

Together, they stepped from the  _ Falcon _ ; Lando, Chewie and the droids brought up the rear as they headed into the hangar.

The whole place was in chaos. A couple of the X-wings had been hit in the battle, and their pilots were likely injured. Medical crews with antigrav gurneys, droids, and fire suppression teams rushed towards the damaged ships. 

Despite the hectic state of the hangar bay, Luke’s gaze was drawn to the  _ Gryffindor _ . It was the last ship to enter the bay; only now were its engines shutting down. 

A figure emerged from it—and somehow, Luke knew this was the woman that Leia had called Hermione. She was about Leia’s height; her brown, curly hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, a few wayward strands were escaping from it. Her attention was on the two X-wings that were hit. The pilot of the first had successfully evacuated—he didn’t seem to have any serious injuries—and the X-wing itself was being tended to. But the second . . .

Something was wrong. 

The ship began belching out great clouds of smoke, and the pilot was still inside. He appeared to be stuck. 

Hermione took off towards the X-wing, retrieving something that looked like a stick out of her sleeve and pressing it to her neck. 

“Everyone, clear the bay!” her voice rang across the large room as if over a loudspeaker. 

Beside Luke, Artoo let out a series of concerned beeps and whistles. 

“Artoo says the pressure in the fuel cells is dropping rapidly,” translated Threepio. “The plasma intermix chamber is reaching critical temperature.”

Their group, along with everyone else, was hurried towards the hangar bay doors. But Leia dug in her heels and made to join Hermione. 

“Oh, no, no! Hermione!” Leia called out to her friend with concern. 

But there was no way Hermione would have heard her. Not only was it too noisy in the hangar bay, but Hermione was also too focused on whatever task she’d appointed herself. 

Chewie howled, then grabbed and held Leia by the shoulders. 

Reaching the damaged X-wing, Hermione waved her stick at the cockpit—and the glass vanished into thin air. With another wave, she released the pilot from whatever was holding him and levitated him out. She deposited him rather gently on the floor, and turned quickly back to the smoking ship. 

“Chewie is right, Leia,” said Lando, transfixed. “I have no idea what she’s doing, but I’m pretty sure you can’t help her.” 

Luke watched, in horror, as the X-wing caught fire. In mere seconds, the entire thing would blow. Luke knew that if that were to happen, the explosion would likely damage the cruiser significantly and kill everyone inside the hangar bay. 

Hermione must have known this, too. With a complicated wiggle of the stick, a shimmery bubble appeared around the X-wing; when it exploded mere moments later, the blast was contained as if the misty-looking bubble was the strongest of force fields.

“How is she even doing this?” Luke asked no one in particular as he observed the scene from the other side of the hangar bay. 

He felt  _ something _ , some kind of energy. Not the Force, but something very much like it. 

“Drop out of lightspeed and open the bay doors!” Hermione’s still loud voice rang in Luke’s ears. “Hurry, I can’t hold it much longer!”

Someone scrambled to contact the bridge and relay her command, and as soon as the doors opened, Hermione pushed her forcefield along with its contents into open space. 

The explosion broke free. The shockwave rocked the cruiser. But the damage, compared to what it could have been, was minimal. And most importantly, there were no casualties. 

Leia heaved a sigh of relief, extricated herself from Chewie, and rushed toward her friend, who’d collapsed on her hands and knees on the bay floors. 

“Mother of Moons,” said Lando, his gaze trained on the woman on the floor. “I’ve flown from one side of this galaxy to the other. I’ve seen a lot of strange stuff. But I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Luke hadn’t flown from one side of the galaxy to the other, but still, he couldn’t agree more. He’d never seen anything quite like it, either. 

* * *

Disaster averted, the cruiser  _ Stargazer _ had gone straight back to lightspeed. Leia briefly introduced Hermione to the crew of the  _ Falcon. _ There wasn’t time for anything else, as Hermione was called back to the command center. An urgent communiqué had been received. 

Leia took Luke to the medical bay to tend to his injuries, and Lando, Chewie and the droids returned back to the _ Falcon _ to see about its repairs. It was their unspoken agreement that they needed to—and would—rescue Han. But first, they needed a plan. A strategy. Contingencies. Luke grew up on Tatooine, so he knew how dangerous Jabba the Hutt was. 

Before any planning could happen, however, they needed information. They needed to go to Tatooine. They needed the  _ Falcon _ fully operational. Blast it,  _ Luke  _ needed to be fully operational. 

Time passed as if in a dream. Luke was tired. So, so tired. The sweet oblivion of sleep would be welcome. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Vader, and heard those four words that had unhinged his entire world, echoing over and over. 

_ I am your father.  _

The sedatives he’d been given didn’t last long, and he’d refused to receive any more. They only seemed to make him feel worse. 

Leia was worried about him, he knew. Ever the diplomat, she gently and carefully asked questions. About where he’d been and what had happened to him after Hoth and on the Cloud City. Offered to listen if he would talk. Luke merely shook his head, not ready to discuss it with anyone just yet. 

And how could he tell Leia that he was the son of her greatest enemy? The one she’d been fighting much longer than he had? The one who’d tortured her and destroyed her home planet, and nearly killed her, too. The one who’d taken nearly everything away from her. 

Moreover, through the Force, Luke could feel Leia’s devastation at Han’s abduction. She hid it well and kept busy, but there was no doubt in his mind that Leia was in love with Han. Luke simply couldn’t—wouldn’t—add to her suffering. 

For a brief moment, Luke searched his feelings to see if this new discovery about Han and Leia made him upset. He found that it didn’t. In fact, he’d expected for the two to end up together. There’d never really been a serious possibility of romance between Luke and Leia. Just a silly crush that was long gone. 

It was always Han and Leia from the very beginning; a certain spark had appeared as soon as they’d locked horns that first time. And now, because of him—because Vader wanted him—Han had been taken away from her. 

In a daze, Luke left the medbay and somehow found himself in the command center. The guard tried to prevent him from entering. 

“Let him through!” Leia reprimanded the guard. 

She walked up to Luke and put a hand between his shoulders, then guided him toward the display table where she and Hermione had been conversing. 

“Hermione was just filling me in on everything I’d missed,” explained Leia, and briefed him, too. 

After Hoth, the majority of their fleet had scattered as they were hunted down by the Empire. Many ships hadn’t made it out. 

But there was some good news, too. Hermione’s cell had been able to commandeer a Star Destroyer. An entire Star Destroyer!

“How did you manage that?” asked Luke. 

He’d had a glimpse of what she could do earlier, and was sure there was more he didn’t know. But a Star Destroyer! It seemed impossible. 

“That part was just quick thinking and sheer luck,” Hermione replied. “We were targeting a shipyard, which took extensive planning and strategizing and weeks of preparation. Commandeering a Star Destroyer wasn’t initially an objective. But we saw an opportunity and we took it.”

Brown eyes locked onto him. An involuntary shiver ran through him at her penetrating gaze. 

“It helped,” she said, “that Vader was rather preoccupied with you, Commander Skywalker. That allowed us to finish the mission and take one of the ships without the Empire’s knowledge.”

Hermione turned to Leia, and they began discussing their plan on breaking into the Destroyer’s computer systems. Something surfaced in Luke’s foggy brain. He was sure he’d heard someone call Hermione “General Granger” earlier. How did he not make the connection sooner?

“Wait a minute,” he said, making both Hermione and Leia turn to him. “You’re Hermione  _ Granger _ , aren’t you?  _ The _ Hermione Granger who destroyed at least three of the Empire’s shipyards?”

“It’s four by now,” Hermione corrected, factually, without arrogance. “And it wasn’t just me. It never is.” 

“But you commanded those missions.”

“That’s correct,” she said. “And you must be  _ the _ Luke Skywalker who fired the shot that destroyed the first Death Star.”

Luke nodded and frowned as he replayed her words in his mind. 

“Did you say the  _ first _ Death Star?” he repeated, feeling the dread rise within him. “There’s another?”

“I’m afraid so,” Hermione said grimly. “As I told Leia, we’ve been able to gain only partial access to the Destroyer’s databanks, but from what we’ve been able to decrypt and analyze so far, we know there’s definitely a second Death Star being built somewhere.

“The computer systems on the Destroyer are very well protected, and we’ve discovered several Trojan Horses—or the equivalent—in them. As a result, several of our analysis droids were lost, and some damaged. We need a hacker who can break into those computer systems.”

“A hacker?” asked Luke. 

“A slicer,” Leia said, supplying the word he was more familiar with. “We already have a team on a mission to find one.”

“I’ll go and see if there’s been a word from them yet,” said Hermione, walking over to another display table, where a group of people was analyzing some kind of data. 

“What’s a Trojan Horse?” Luke asked Leia. 

“I don’t know,” Leia replied. “I gather it’s some kind of slicer virus. Hermione comes from a place very far from here. She has some unusual turns of phrase, but it’s not overly difficult to infer her meaning.”

Luke slowly nodded and looked out the viewport. He didn’t know how long he stood like this, staring ahead unseeingly, finding comfort in the buzz of conversation around him. Time was meaningless. It ceased to exist. 

“We’ll be on Acamar soon,” Leia said, startling him out of his daze as she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Would you like to go back to the medbay and rest?”

Acamar, where another rebel base was located. Luke’s rebel cell had moved so many times in the last few years, and the Empire just kept finding them. But apparently the Acamar base was special. It was fairly new, but according to Leia, well-protected. It was to become the Alliance’s new headquarters. 

Luke met Leia’s concerned gaze and shook his head. 

“I’d like to stay here and watch, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” she said, then gave his shoulder a quick squeeze and joined Hermione at one of the computer terminals. 

And watch he did. His gaze was glued to the viewport while they were at lightspeed—the starlight streaking past had a soothing, nearly hypnotic power. When they reached their destination and came out of hyperspace, the image was replaced by that of a blue and white planet. On another occasion, Luke might have been impressed by the view, but this time, he simply continued watching as the planet grew larger the closer they got; as the white clouds surrounded them completely as they descended into the planet’s atmosphere. 

And then, as they broke free of the stark barrier of clouds, he saw that they were flying towards a mountain. Tall and beautiful and capped with snow. They drew closer, but still, there was no sign of the rebel base. From their vantage point, he should have been able to see  _ something _ by now. But he saw nothing but the mountain. 

A commotion on the Bridge drew Luke’s attention. He wasn’t the only one concerned about the lack of visible signs of the base. One commander in particular (Luke had never met him before) was rather vocal in his concern. 

“Take a seat and enjoy the view, commander,” Hermione ordered calmly as she stood by the pilot and monitored his progress. 

“Enjoy the view?” the commander protested. “We’re flying straight at the mountain. We’ll crash!”

“Have a little faith,” said Hermione. “Do you honestly think I’d do something like that? Order to crash this vessel?” 

That shut the commander up. After what she’d done earlier in the hangar bay, everyone knew that she wouldn’t let a single person under her command die. Not if she could help it. 

The mountain drew closer and closer. Despite having a feeling that they weren’t in any danger, Luke still flinched a little when the ship’s hull made contact—or  _ should _ have made contact. But instead, they flew right through the rock, like slipping through a mirage. Not even a second later, they emerged in a large hangar bay. A few people exclaimed in surprise, and someone even clapped. 

“Another great landing, lieutenant,” Hermione congratulated the pilot. “Thank you.”

Leia joined Hermione, a small smile on her face. “Are you going to tell me what just happened, or—”

“Magic,” Hermione replied, smiling back at the princess. “I won’t bore you with technicalities.”

She placed an arm around Leia’s shoulder and shifted her gaze to Luke. 

“Come on,” she said. “I’ll show you around the base.”

* * *

It was clear to Luke that Hermione Granger was a capable and respected leader. She was quite young—not much older than himself, if at all—but was already a general and an enormous thorn in the Empire’s side. He’d heard of her and her rebel cell during debriefings. Renowned in combat, the hero of many battles. Destroying shipyards, cutting off the Empire’s supply lines. 

Oh, he’d heard of her. But he’d never put much thought into whether or not he’d actually meet her. Nor had he been aware that Leia was so well acquainted with her. 

And here she was, only an arm’s reach away. 

Luke read confidence in her movements as she showed them around the base. She radiated something vital. Virtuous. Something like . . . the Force, but also not. People seemed to like her. Leia adored her. 

Luke glanced at Hermione with a twinge of concern. If she was so well-known to the rebels, the Empire had most certainly heard of her, too. She must have been just as wanted in the eyes of the Emperor as Luke. And now they were both on the same base. 

Too tired to think about what this might mean and what to do about it, Luke focused on simply cataloguing his surroundings. The base was very similar to all the other rebel bases he’d been to, but for the feeling of it. He could feel the presence of this  _ something _ that Hermione radiated. He wondered if it was magic that she’d made mention of. It surrounded and enveloped everything, it seemed to be in the very air he breathed. He wondered if the magic she spoke of _ was  _ the Force, and she was merely using it in a way he wasn’t familiar with. 

A number of rebels from Luke’s cell who’d survived the attack on Hoth base were there as well. Among them, his friend Wedge Antilles. Wedge joined them on their little tour and talked his ear off—about what happened after Hoth, about the missions he’d been on since then—as he walked Luke toward his assigned quarters. A few times Luke caught him glancing at his missing hand, but mercifully, Wedge didn’t comment on it, nor did he ask any questions. 

Once in his quarters, Luke collapsed on the bed, fully clothed. He fell into a fitful sleep only to wake up what felt like a very short time later, breathing heavily. A film of sweat coated his face and the back of his neck. Vader’s words that had been silenced for a little while had come back to haunt him with renewed vigour. 

_ Don’t make me destroy you. _

_ Join me. _

_ I am your father.  _

_ Join me.  _

_ We can rule the galaxy as father and son.  _

_ Join me. _

_ Father and son. _

_ It is your destiny. _

The room was completely dark, and for a few, wild moments, Luke didn’t know where he was. He tried to wipe the cold sweat off his forehead, but instead of the back of his hand, he felt only the foreign autotourniquet covering the stump of his arm. Then the memories came rushing back: Vader had cut off his hand, revealed the horrible truth that challenged everything Luke thought he knew about himself, and now he was on the Acamar base. 

Luke found himself sitting up straight and still on a rumpled bed. Taking in several deep, slow breaths, he tried to steady his racing heart. He reached for the small bedside lamp and switched it on. The sudden light hurt his eyes, and he screwed them shut. Slowly, he opened them again and took in his surroundings. It was a small room, with minimal furniture, but for a bare attempt to make it more homely—a vase of wildflowers on the desk, a few pictures hung on the walls. 

Luke pulled up a corner of his sheet and wiped the sweat from his face and the back of his neck. His one remaining hand trembled. He glanced at the chronometer on his left wrist. It was the middle of the night. Outside his quarters, everything was quiet. 

He swung his legs around and planted his feet on the floor, then sat for a moment with his elbows on his knees and collected himself. Or tried to. Thoughts of Vader wouldn’t leave him. 

“Ben,” Luke whispered. “Master Yoda.”

Nothing but silence answered him.

Minutes—perhaps hours—went by. Luke had never felt so alone. 

“Please, answer me,” he continued, bracing his right arm as he rocked himself on his bed. “I’m lost. I don’t know what to do.” 

There was a glass and a water pitcher next to the lamp on the bedside table. He stretched out his hand and, using the Force, levitated the cup. 

“I can still feel the Force, still use it,” he said into the silence. “But I lost my lightsaber.” 

He put the cup down, and his gaze shifted to his missing hand. 

“I lost a lot of things.”

Futile tears saturated his eyes, but he refused to let them flow. It would only feel like one more thing lost. 

“Please, I need your guidance.”

There was only silence, silence, _ silence. _

Luke’s thoughts and feelings were as chaotic and frenetic as one of Tatooine’s spontaneous dust storms. He felt like a grain of sand, caught up in a tornado, with nothing to anchor him. His entire world had been shaken, and he’d literally lost his grip. What should he do? What  _ could  _ he do?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he said again into the silence. 

How was he supposed to process this? Did Ben and Yoda not want him anymore? Was it because he’d left before his training was complete? Did that mean all the time spent on Dagobah was truly for nothing? Luke had promised he’d return and complete the training, and he still intended to keep that promise. He wanted to be a Jedi. Like his father. But if what Vader had told him was true, then perhaps he shouldn’t be anything like his father. 

The peace and strength he’d felt on Dagobah had left him. They were replaced by confusion, fear, loneliness . . . anger. 

_ “Beware of the dark side,” _ Yoda had told him. “ _ Anger, fear, aggression. To the dark side of the Force, these emotions lead you. Easily they flow, quick to join you. If down the dark path, you begin to walk, forever it will dominate your destiny. Consume you it will.”  _

Luke took a deep breath, trying to recall the feeling of peace. He fought the feelings that Yoda had warned him about. 

But his mind screamed,  _ They lied!  _

If Vader was his father, there was no way Ben couldn’t have known it. Yoda, too. 

And his Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen. 

His father wasn’t a navigator on a spice freighter. Nor was he the embodiment of the image of a kindly and gallant Jedi knight that had inspired him since his childhood. 

Those were all lies, lies, lies. 

All his life, he’d been lied to. 

Did they think he couldn’t handle the truth? Or were they afraid that he’d join Vader? 

_ “Quicker, easier, more seductive is the dark path,”  _ Yoda had said. 

Did they think he wasn’t strong enough to resist? 

_ Perhaps they were right about that. _

Luke certainly didn’t feel strong at the moment. If there ever was a dark night of the soul, he was currently living it. 

_ “This is a dangerous time for you,”  _ Ben had said before Luke hopped into his X-wing and prepared to leave Dagobah, “ _ when you will be tempted by the dark side of the Force.”  _

And tempted, he was. At Cloud City. Even now. It was difficult to feel anything  _ but  _ anger and fear and confusion. 

And uncertainty. 

If he wasn’t going to be a Jedi, then what was he supposed to be? The sudden destruction of his past and present made him uncertain of the future as well. 

_ Control, control, _ he told himself. _ I must learn better control.  _

But his anger was strong. Stronger than reason. Stronger than he, in his weakened state, could handle.

If only Ben or Yoda would answer . . .

“Why won’t you answer me?!” Luke finally shouted. 

The last vestiges of control slipped away, giving way to all-consuming anger. It tore through him like an explosion that devoured everything in an instantaneous blast. 

Power, raw and untamed, released from him. The shockwave hit everything around him, destroying it. The bed collapsed under him. Glass shattered, wood splintered, metal grinded against metal with terrible, groaning violence. The ground shook beneath him. Dust fell from the walls and ceiling. The door was blown off its hinges. The dim light of the corridor filtered into his room. 

Surprise, and then horror filled Luke as he stood in the middle of an annihilated room. His heart pounded in his ears. 

_ What have I done?  _

A figure appeared in the doorway. 

“Commander Skywalker?”

Luke closed his eyes. 

_ No, no, no. Why did it have to be her?  _

He’d rather it be anyone but her right now. Shame, abrupt and piercing, filled him. 

There was a commotion in the corridor. People began emerging from their quarters. 

Hermione quietly took in the scene of total devastation, then flicked her wrist to retrieve her stick. 

_ Her wand, _ Luke corrected himself. He was pretty sure she’d referred to it as a wand earlier. 

She silently waved it in the doorway, forming a shimmering barrier of sorts. Through it, Luke observed as the corridor filled with more people. She checked every one of them for injuries and then sent them back to their quarters to continue sleeping. 

_ ‘Nothing to worry about. Glad you’re alright. Please, go on about your business as usual.’  _

As if that were possible. 

At least, not for Luke.

Thankfully, no one seemed to notice the state of his quarters through the barrier. No one seemed to think there was anything out of place at all. 

Once the corridor was empty, Hermione walked through the barrier into his room. Luke continued standing in the middle of it, motionless. She momentarily met his gaze, then waved her wand around in one sweeping motion. 

The result was instantaneous. It was as if the room became alive. The furniture, mended, flew back to its original places; the vase, the pitcher, and the glass reformed midair; the picture frames, whole and untarnished, hung themselves back on the walls; rips, cracks, and holes healed everywhere. On the bedside table, the lamp, now fixed, switched itself on. 

Hermione stepped further into the room and waved her wand once more. The door, now unbroken, hung itself back and shut with a soft click. 

Astonished, Luke observed the room. There was no longer any indication that it had been in ruins mere moments ago. 

She guided him to the bed and prompted him to take a seat. The bed dipped slightly as she joined him, facing him. Then she began waving her wand at him, healing all the cuts he’d received when the glass around him exploded. He hadn’t even been aware that had happened. The autotourniquet on his right arm was also damaged, and his stump of an arm had begun bleeding. She healed the stump and fixed the autotourniquet and put it back on. 

Surreptitiously, Luke watched her work. 

“Our medical frigate is on its way here,” she said when she was finished. 

Her tone was calm, informative. Peace (and magic?) radiated off her in waves, like the heat of the twin suns of Tatooine. 

“Based on the scans and specs we sent them, they’re already working on a new top of the line mechno-arm with synth skin for you,” she said. “But for now, you are going to have to keep the autotourniquet on and be careful. Your arm might start bleeding again.” 

His head hung in shame, Luke nodded. He couldn’t look her in the eye. 

How could he lose control like this? How could he endanger this entire base? What if his actions had caused something terrible to happen? What if he’d hurt someone badly? What if he’d— 

Hermione’s comms suddenly came to life, and she spoke into them, “Granger here.”

_ “General, Commander Dax reporting. We’ve checked every part of the base. No one’s injured.” _

“Very good, commander.”

_ “But we still don’t know what caused the . . . disturbance.” _

“Probably just an earthquake. There’s been known seismic activity in this region.”

_ “But the sensors _ — _ ” _

“Log it in as an earthquake,” Hermione interrupted firmly. “That’s an order.”

_ “Yes, general.” _

She terminated the connection and put the comm device away. 

Although relieved he hadn't hurt anyone, Luke still couldn’t look at her. 

“Why are you doing this?” he asked quietly. “Why are you helping me?” 

“Because I know what it’s like to lose control.”

That made him look up at her. He couldn’t quite read her—not yet—but there was something familiar in her gaze. Determination, kindness, understanding—but also loneliness, loss, and pain. A reflection of himself. Unlikely. Undeniable. 

“It’s different for those with abilities,” she said, holding his gaze,  _ seeing _ him. 

He felt exposed, but not entirely uncomfortable. His breath hitched. When she finally blinked, it was a relief. 

“I also know what it’s like when someone’s there to offer help,” she added, replacing her wand inside her sleeve. 

Luke didn’t know how or why, but an image of Leia surfaced in his brain. 

“Leia,” he said out loud. “She was the one who helped you?”

Hermione nodded. 

“And her parents,” she said. “I was a complete stranger, and they showed me kindness.”

“What happened to you?” he asked before he could stop himself. 

He immediately regretted it. But she didn’t seem to mind. 

“I don’t really know,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “One moment I was fighting an enemy. Something must have happened to make me pass out. When I woke up, I was on Alderaan, staring up at Leia’s concerned face. She told me her father found me injured and dying and brought me to their home. They looked after me, healed me. Gave me a roof over my head.”

Her eyes became unfocused, and she stared past thim at the wall. There was something so painfully familiar in her gaze, that Luke couldn’t help but think of Leia, and her pain at the destruction of Alderaan. Was that also on Hermione’s mind at this very moment? Was she remembering the people she’d lost and the planet that had been a home to her? 

She took a shuddering breath and gave her head a light shake.

“I can’t explain what and how it happened,” she continued, “but somehow I seem to have ended up in another galaxy or a parallel universe … or something. I found no evidence that Earth—my Earth—the planet I come from, exists here.”

“I . . .” Luke began, but no words seemed good enough. “I’m sorry about what happened to you,” he finished lamely. 

She met his eyes and studied him. 

“And I’m sorry about what happened to you,” she said softly. 

Luke blinked. Did she know? Could she read his mind?

“I don’t know  _ exactly  _ what happened to you,” she hurried to add, as if sensing his questions. “But I know it’s something terrible. I can sense it. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to—”

“No, it’s—it’s alright,” he said, waving a hand in a dismissive motion. 

There was a brief silence as he fiddled with a corner of the blanket. 

“How do you go on?” he asked, locking his eyes on her. “After . . . everything?”

She didn’t answer immediately, and when the silence stretched on, Luke began wondering whether he’d asked the wrong question. 

“You find a silver lining, find purpose,” she finally said. “Then you simply put one foot in front of the other and keep going.”

“A silver lining?”

“There is a common expression where I come from: _ Every cloud has a silver lining. _ My mother was very fond of it. It means that even the worst events or situations have some positive aspect to them.”

She reached for his hand, and he gave it, unthinking. Grateful at the contact, he squeezed it briefly. She squeezed back. 

“It’ll be alright, Commander Sky—”

“Luke,” he interrupted. “You can call me Luke.”

She nodded and removed her hand. 

“And you can call me Hermione,” she said with a small smile. “Any friend of Leia’s is my friend.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my amazingly wonderful alpha/beta reader Insanity-Red.

Luke ran through the forest near the base. It was the middle of the night, but the dark didn’t impede his ability to navigate the terrain. In fact, during the day he preferred to go through this obstacle course blindfolded. The Force was his ally, and using it as his eyes only deepened his connection to it. 

He leapt over small bushes and tree roots, somersaulted over fallen trees and stumps, evaded large rocks. And ran, ran, ran, letting the Force flow through him. 

It had been nearly two months since he’d first arrived on Acamar. It had taken a whole month for him to get cleared for active duty. No matter how much Luke had protested and insisted that he was fine, the head doctor wouldn’t have it. 

_“Loss of a limb is a serious matter, Commander Skywalker,”_ she’d said. _“Absolutely no physical exertion for at least a month!”_

Leia, of course, had taken the side of the head doctor, and so had Hermione. Luke had no choice but to comply.

In retrospect, it was for the best. Not only did he need the time to collect himself and sort through his feelings, but his new hand had also taken some getting used to. Initially, it had twitched involuntarily at random times, and the fingers hadn’t aligned quite the same. Fine-tuning the amount of pressure he needed to apply when holding different things had been something of a nightmare; he’d ended up crushing a few cups and bending several utensils. 

It had been frustrating, and the experience had tested _all_ of Luke’s patience and fortitude. He imagined it hadn’t been easy for those around him, either. 

And the arm just above the prosthetic hurt. It _burned._ The medics called it phantom limb pain and post-traumatic stress. But it felt so _real._

And even though the pain subsided more and more with every passing day, there was something else that Luke found to be somewhat disconcerting—the way the flow of the Force _changed_ when it reached his right hand. At the divide, where his living flesh and blood turned into a machine. The change was so abrupt that initially, it was very jarring. It felt as though he’d been running smoothly, only to stumble into waist-deep water and struggle to keep his pace. 

This feeling, too, diminished daily. 

The sole aspect of suffering that refused to leave him, even in part, was the nightmares. 

As soon as he’d been cleared, Luke had resumed his training. He needed to be well-prepared and be his best self when they were ready to go and rescue Han. His endurance had taken a bit of a hit, and he’d lost some muscle during the month of recovery; but unlike his mental and emotional equilibrium, it was nothing he couldn’t get back—within a very short time, at that. 

In regards to improving on those non-physical aspects . . . Well, he still couldn’t reach Ben or Yoda. Upset as he was about that, he persevered. The Force was with him, and he convinced himself that that was what mattered the most. 

Pushing away the thought, he leapt to a high branch and used it as a stepping stone to reach another—an even higher one, which held the ribbon he’d set as a goal marker. He snatched it up with his new robotic hand and stuffed it into his pocket, even as he seamlessly jumped down and continued running toward the next checkpoint. 

He thought of Han, and of how much he missed him. Certainly, Han was cocky, reckless, often intolerant, and smug. But he was also brave to a fault, and unfailingly cheery. And they all could do with some cheerfulness right now. 

He thought of Lando, who had left the base to take up an undercover position at Jabba’s palace. Luke hoped his friend was alright. Chewie was supposed to return from his self-appointed scouting mission on Tatooine any day now. Luke and Leia already had the beginnings of a rescue plan formulated, and once Chewie was back with intel, they’d solidify it.

Many in the High Command initially hadn’t approved of the mission to get Han back, stating that it was low on the priority list. But Hermione and Leia had argued that while sacrifices often had to be made for the collective greater goal, the Alliance didn’t leave people behind if they could help it. Both of their voices carried a lot of weight, so the High Command had grudgingly conceded. Even then, they hadn’t assigned any more people to join this mission—most of the rebels were engaged in other systems, on a variety of different missions. 

But Hermione had said she’d join the rescue party. 

Luke and Hermione had fallen into an easy friendship since that night he’d destroyed his quarters, and she’d put everything back together again. (And given the soothing effect she seemed to have on his more-difficult-than-usual temper, that felt a bit too much like a metaphor for their entire relationship). They’d had many conversations about magic and the Force, and had shared many meals—more often than not, Leia would join them as well. But the most important thing they did together was watch the sunrise. Just the two of them. 

One night, after being woken by another nightmare, Luke had ended up aimlessly wandering around the corridors until he’d found himself at the North entrance. The blast doors were wide open, revealing a figure gilded by the first rays of sunlight. 

_“It’s a bit of a ritual,”_ she’d said when he’d asked her what she was doing, _“to remind myself that no matter how dark the night might be, the sun always rises again.”_

Since that day, Luke had always joined her on this morning ritual. They even had a special spot from which to welcome the new day. 

Having Hermione join them on their mission to Tatooine would be nice, especially since her abilities would make their task of rescuing Han that much simpler. But she was also an important figure to the Rebellion. And so was Leia. And so was Luke himself. Having all three of them on the same mission might not be the wisest decision. 

But, Luke felt confident their little group could handle whatever the Hutt had in store. 

If only he had his lightsaber. 

He climbed another tree to retrieve yet another ribbon. Much higher this time. This was the fifteenth ribbon—the last one. 

Jumping off with ease, he remained on the ground in a crouched position as he caught his breath and stilled himself. 

_“Luke,”_ a voice—Ben’s voice—called. 

Luke’s eyes darted around, straining for a glimpse of his much-missed mentor. But there was no sign of Ben. 

_“Luke,”_ said Ben once more, materializing before him, _“go to my hut on Tatooine. There you will find instructions on how to build a new lightsaber.”_

Ben smiled gently at him and began to fade. 

“Ben, wait!” Luke called, but Ben was already gone. 

Luke felt his anger flaring up. The man hadn’t spoken to him since that day on Dagobah, and now he simply showed up for mere moments, and disappeared again? 

But what could he do? Deliberately calling him was evidently an exercise in frustration. 

Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, feeling the reassuring currents of the Force flow through him, Luke slowly rose to his feet and headed back to the base. 

He was planning on going to Tatooine anyway, and he needed a lightsaber. He would do as Ben instructed. Once Han was rescued, Luke would go to Dagobah. He had a promise to keep. 

If Ben didn’t want to talk to him about his father, then Yoda would. 

Luke wouldn’t leave until he did. 

* * *

Luke used the North entrance. It was still dark, and most people on the base were asleep. Most, but not all. After the encounter with Ben in the forest, Luke was in a contemplative mood and didn’t really feel like talking to anyone—and using the North entrance at this hour ensured that he would see as few people as possible on the way back to his quarters. 

His booted feet made almost no sound as he made his way through the dimly-lit corridors, past the research laboratories. One of the doors was open, and light filtered into the corridor. A soft voice reached his ears, and Luke smiled, recognizing it. 

Of course she’d be awake at this hour. She often was. 

If Luke was completely honest with himself, he’d _hoped_ she’d be awake and that he’d run into her. Even if he didn’t feel like talking to anyone, Hermione wasn’t just anyone. She was a friend. A friend with abilities—different from his own, but still similar enough that she could understand him. Moreover, Luke found her presence—her magic—very soothing, especially at times when he was feeling too emotional. And her cool logic and sharp intelligence often offered him a different perspective on things—something he was currently in need of. 

There was some shuffling of feet in the lab, and Hermione heaved a sigh. 

“I don’t know, Dotty,” she said with a bit of a groan. “I feel like I’m in over my head.”

The droid—Hermione’s astro droid, one that had recently returned from an important mission to Lankar—let out a string of encouraging beeps. Its number was D7-T1, but Hermione always affectionately called him ‘Dotty.’ 

“I wish I had your confidence in this matter,” replied Hermione. 

Dotty whistled excitedly. 

Hermione chuckled. “Thank you, Dotty. You’re a good friend.”

Luke reached the door and paused by the entrance. Hermione was at the far side of the lab, standing over one of the display tables and staring at the holo designs. Her hands pinched and swiped as she rotated the images this way and that, zoomed them in and out. 

She was obviously busy, and her work was important. Luke felt guilty for wanting to disturb her. It would probably be best if he left right now, headed back to his quarters and had a shower. He would come back after—in time to watch the sunrise with her, and maybe talk about Ben’s appearance. But he found his feet unwilling to move. 

Dotty’s photoreceptor swivelled toward him, and the droid let out a beep.

“Luke’s here?” Hermione repeated absentmindedly, then turned her head to look at the door. 

A smile spread across her face. 

“Luke!” she said, taking a few steps towards him. “You’re like a cat. Always so quiet.”

Her smile was contagious, and Luke couldn’t help but smile back as he fully entered the lab. 

“You look like you aren’t planning on going to bed any time soon,” he said. 

She shrugged her shoulders. “Just catching up on some work.”

Luke knew that apart from her responsibilities as a general, Hermione also had several science projects in-progress. Her inventions were a combination of magic and technology, and were largely the reason why the rebel cell under her command had been so successful. 

“If only there were a magical library around here somewhere,” she said with a sigh. 

She often lamented about it, but never gave up. The word ‘quit’ didn’t seem to be in her vocabulary. 

“What are you working on?” Luke asked curiously. 

He made his way closer to her, but not too close—he’d just finished his obstacle course in the forest and was sweaty and probably a bit smelly. He felt somewhat self-conscious. 

“Well, let’s see,” she said, enlarging one of the images. “This one is a cloaking device for smaller ships like the _Gryffindor_ or a fighter.” 

She swiped the image away and brought up another. 

“This one is a modification to an X-wing’s weapons array that will allow it to fire electromagnetic charges in addition to its usual firepower.” 

She rotated the image so that Luke could see it from different angles.

“I say electromagnetic, but it’s more than that. You see, some spells don’t get along well with technology, so I’m making use of that. It won’t completely disable a large ship like, say, a Star Destroyer, but it’ll do some damage. And it’ll easily take out a TIE fighter.”

Luke had never actually seen her work in progress up close like this. He felt honoured that she was sharing with him, and also a bit intimidated by her intelligence. 

“This is all very impressive,” he said.

Her cheeks flushed slightly. 

“I hope it will be,” she said, biting her bottom lip, “when it’s finished. We need every advantage we can get.”

Something else caught Luke’s attention—another design. Some kind of addition to the _Gryffindor_ , by the looks of it. 

“And what’s this?” he asked, pointing at the holo. 

“That is an idea that might have to be scrapped—or at least, put on hold for now.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t seem to have enough knowledge to figure it out,” she said, frustration seeping into her voice. 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” said Luke, taking note of her bloodshot eyes. “You probably just need a break. You’re working too hard.”

“Aren’t we all?” she countered. 

Luke couldn’t argue with that. 

A device on another display table began beeping, and Hermione turned her attention towards it. She pressed a few buttons, bringing up the message on the holoscreen. 

“The team on the Destroyer finished decoding the last bit of data we could safely extract from the central computer,” she said, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “Now we simply _must_ have a hacker if we want the rest.”

A team of the rebellion’s computer specialists and analysis droids had been working around the clock on the stolen Star Destroyer they currently had cloaked in orbit. Without a slicer, the process of extracting and decoding the data was slow, and they could only attempt to work on the data with a low-level of encryption. If they tried decoding anything more complicated without a qualified person, they risked losing _all_ of the data—the Imperial security protocols made sure of it. 

“Any word from Dorek’s team?” asked Luke. 

Commander Dorek’s team was the second one sent on the same mission—go to the Jenkata system, find the slicer named Damar Peldor, and bring him back to the base. They’d lost all contact with the first team a little over a month ago, after the team had reported that they’d located the slicer. Now it appeared that something had gone wrong for Dorek’s team as well. Luke knew that they’d failed to check in a couple of days ago. 

Hermione shook her head. 

“I have a bad feeling about it,” she said grimly. 

She switched off the display table. 

“I need some fresh air. Join me, will you?”

And without waiting for his response, she took him by the hand—his right, robotic hand—and led him towards the door. 

Calling instructions for Dotty to secure all project data and lock up the lab, she headed out into the corridor, Luke’s hand still in hers.

They walked towards the North entrance, retracing Luke’s earlier steps. She asked him about the obstacle course and his training, and they fell into an easy conversation using topics that were safe to be overheard. They ran into a bleary-eyed chemist, who worked at one of the labs. Pausing in the middle of a yawn, she offered a startled and weak hello, before hurrying towards her destination, turning back several times to stare at their still joined hands. 

Outside, the sky began brightening with the approach of sunrise. The local birds had already awoken, singing their songs to welcome the new day. 

Luke and Hermione didn’t speak, letting the sounds of the waking forest envelop them. They didn’t speak as the first rays of sunshine appeared on the horizon. 

When the sun was higher up in the sky, Hermione took a deep breath. 

“I haven’t told Leia yet,” she said, her eyes closed, and her face turned towards the sun, “but I won’t be able to join you on your mission to Tatooine.”

She opened her eyes and turned to Luke. 

“I’m going to the Jenkata system.”

There was something in her tone that made Luke worried. 

“By yourself?” he asked, sure that that was on her mind. 

“Would that be such a bad idea?” she countered, confirming his suspicions. 

“Yes. It’d be very unwise.”

“Probably,” she agreed with a grimace. “But this is turning out to be a suicide mission, and I can’t send anyone else to their death. I simply can’t.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know that they’re all dead.”

But as soon Luke said that he knew he was wrong. There were many reasons why a team might fail to check in, but this time it was different. Luke was almost certain the team hadn’t made it. The bad feeling Hermione had referred to earlier—he felt it as well. 

Hermione gave him a look that asked him not to sugarcoat the situation. A look that spoke of guilt and mourning. 

Luke wanted to tell her that, as a squadron leader, he understood her—even if as a general, she had greater responsibility. He wanted to tell her that her position of authority didn’t mean that every death on her watch was entirely her fault. Things happened during missions and in the chaos of battle; people could make bad split-second decisions that cost them their lives, and there was no controlling that. There was only so much a leader could be held accountable for.

He wanted to tell her that no one blamed her for the unfortunate turn the mission had taken, and she shouldn’t be doing it either. Being part of the Alliance meant that there was always a chance they might die. Everyone who joined understood the risks. Odds were, _any_ mission had the potential to turn out casualties. Their collective greater goal was to make those sacrifices worthwhile.

He wanted to tell her all that, but somehow, Luke didn’t think it would be much of a comfort to her. It was never easy to lose someone who looked up to you for guidance. 

“Can’t we find a different slicer?” he asked instead. “Does it have to be this Damar Peldor?”

“Rebel Intelligence says he’s _the_ man for the job, and we haven’t exactly got the time to go searching for someone else.” She took a breath and rubbed at her eyes. “We simply can’t afford any more delays. According to the information we’ve been able to decrypt, the second Death Star isn’t yet finished. We have to act before it’s fully operational, or else . . .” she trailed off and gave her head a shake. 

There was no need to finish that sentence. Luke knew full well what would happen if that Death Star became fully operational. 

“You can’t go alone,” he insisted. 

She stared off into the distance and bit her bottom lip. She didn’t speak for a long while, and an uneasy feeling began to churn in Luke’s gut. He didn’t know her all that well—yet—but she didn’t strike him as the type to act rashly and recklessly. That was more his thing, as Ben and Yoda had often reminded him. 

“You can’t!” he said again, unable to help the way his tone altered, tensing like a taut wire, even as his body did the same. 

“And I won’t,” she said with a sigh. 

The uneasy feeling faded. 

“But it will have to be a volunteer only mission.”

Luke nodded. “Sounds fair to me.”

He had no doubt that there would be more than enough volunteers, despite the increasingly apparent dangers—the mission was too important, and everyone understood the stakes. 

Hermione slowly tilted her head backwards and closed her eyes. The morning breeze played with her bushy clouds of hair, and rays of sunshine danced on her cheeks. Birds chirped merrily in the surrounding woods, and the Force—around them, between them, between the rocks, everywhere—hummed with energy that Luke could only describe as contentment. 

Strange, since Luke himself wouldn’t describe what he was currently feeling as contentment. 

He realized that such a feeling—contentment—was almost foreign to him now. He hadn’t felt it for the longest time. Probably not since those two droids had entered his life all those years ago, inevitably leading him to where he was now—a Jedi-in-training, a squadron commander in the Rebel Alliance. 

Even before he’d met Artoo and Threepio, contentment had been scarce. Luke had been more preoccupied with leaving his uncle’s farm and getting off the forsaken hunk of rock that was Tatooine. There wasn’t much to do there, except work on the farm, cruise the monotonous dunes, and try to avoid the peevish Tusken Raiders who guarded the sand as if it were gold-dust. 

Luke hadn’t thought he’d ever return there. But fate—or the Force—seemed to have other plans. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was necessary. At least he’d have his friends with him, and it would make the experience bearable. 

He replayed Ben’s words in his head. 

_‘Go to my hut on Tatooine. There you will find instructions on how to build a new lightsaber.’_

Ben had been the first person to show Luke the way of the Jedi. He’d been, more than anyone, the agent of Luke’s discoveries and losses—and discoveries _of_ losses. 

_Why?_ Luke thought again, bitterly. _Why didn’t you tell me?_

Was it so hard for Ben to stick around a bit longer and talk to Luke? To answer his question? What could Ben possibly gain from tormenting him like this? 

“Your thoughts are very loud,” Hermione said, opening her eyes and changing position.

During one of their many conversations over the past couple of months, she’d mentioned that her magic was different here . . . in this universe? Galaxy? She’d said she could feel things she hadn’t been able to before. Luke had suggested that it had to do with the Force; perhaps where she’d originally come from there’d been nothing quite like the Force and its tendency to connect things. 

They sat in silence, cross-legged and facing each other, for a short eternity. 

“I’m here,” she said, reaching for his hand—his robotic hand, he couldn’t help but notice again—and lightly squeezing it, “if you’d like to talk about it.”

He looked down at their hands and, almost absently, he began twining his fingers through hers. 

“I saw Ben today,” he said. 

“Your teacher?”

He nodded. 

He’d told her about his Jedi training and his teachers. Not everything, just bits and pieces; enough that he could talk about seeing Ben, and she wouldn’t think he’d gone strange. 

“He told me I had to go to his hut on Tatooine,” Luke said, staring down at their laced fingers. “To find instructions on how to build a new lightsaber.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” she said, running her thumb soothingly across his fingers. “You are going to need your weapon going forward.”

Luke nodded again but didn’t say anything else. 

“He didn’t answer the question you wanted him to,” she said, her tone more a statement than a query. “I can understand your frustration.”

Luke hadn’t told her what question it was—only that it was important. He hadn’t told anyone about the possibility that he was Vader’s son. He couldn’t—not until he got a confirmation. 

“I’m sure there’s a reason for that,” she said. “This Ben doesn’t sound like someone who’d do things without a good reason.”

“I just wish he didn’t lie to me,” said Luke.

“Perhaps, to him, it wasn’t a lie at all.”

At this, Luke looked up to meet her gaze. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she began, tilting her head slightly to the side, “sometimes when something bad happens, we convince ourselves of certain things to make the pain bearable and to be able to move forward. It’s not necessarily a lie—still the truth, but only from a certain point of view.”

Luke furrowed his brow and contemplated her words. Ben had said that he and his father had been friends. Ben had also said that Darth Vader had been a pupil of his, who’d been seduced by the dark side. If his father was Darth Vader, it meant that he’d been both Ben’s pupil _and_ his friend. They must have been very close. 

Ben had also called Darth Vader one of his greatest failures. Did he blame himself for what had happened? Did he feel that if he’d done something differently, the tragedy could have been avoided? 

Had Ben chosen to look at the situation _from a certain point of view,_ as the death of a friend, to make some sense of his loss? To make the pain bearable? Had he done it because there was no other way for him to reconcile the person he’d known with the man Luke’s father had become?

Questions, so many questions. 

“It’s also possible,” Hermione said, “Ben was simply trying to protect you.”

“From what? The truth?”

“I don’t know,” she replied with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “But maybe you weren’t yet ready to hear what he had to say.”

“And what about now?” asked Luke, feeling himself grow more agitated. “Am I still not ready?”

“That is not for me to answer,” she said calmly. 

Luke took a deep breath and slowly let it out. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, unlacing their fingers and trapping her hand between both of his. “It’s not fair of me to direct my anger at you.” 

She smiled gently. 

“Apology accepted,” she said, placing her other hand on top of his. “I just hope you’ll find your answers soon.”

Something strange happened then.

Another place passed before Luke’s eyes: a temple of sorts, and about a dozen children with lightsabers. Luke himself was there, looking a bit older, and so was Hermione. Together, they trained the younglings in the way of the Jedi. Hermione had a lightsaber of her own, but a very unusual one. It had a two-coloured blade—purple and gold. A feeling of peace and contentment—of happiness—filled Luke upon seeing the images. 

Hermione inhaled sharply and withdrew her hands. She stared at Luke for a long moment. 

Had she seen what he had? Felt what he had? Was that the future? _Their_ future? But this vision was so different from the others he’d had through the Force. Usually, he had to concentrate and exercise control to get such a clear vision of something. This time, it had been effortless. 

It appeared that the vision Hermione had was different from his, after all. 

She reached behind her neck, unclasped her necklace, and held it out to him. 

Luke blinked, still reeling from the vision he’d just had. He took in the pendant attached to the chain. Up until now, it had always been hidden under Hermione’s shirt. Outwardly, it looked like a piece of glass. Colourless. But Luke could _feel_ it wasn’t glass. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“Several years ago, an old woman gave this to me,” Hermione explained. “She called it the living crystal. She said I was to safeguard it until the time came for me to give it to someone, and that I’d know who to give it to and when. Now I know that person is you, and the time is now.”

Luke’s gaze flickered between Hermione and the crystal as he processed the information. A memory surfaced in his brain. 

“This old woman,” he said slowly. “What did she look like?”

“It’s hard to recall,” she confessed, her gaze becoming slightly unfocused. “It was my first mission with the Rebellion. We were on Temiken, and things got hectic. And in the middle of it all, this woman appeared seemingly out of nowhere and gave me the necklace. She disappeared just as quickly and mysteriously, and I didn’t get a chance to ask any questions. All I can remember is that the woman was blind.”

She looked him dead in the eye. “Why do you ask?” 

Luke shrugged and turned to look at the horizon. The sun was rising higher and higher, and they were running out of time. 

“No reason,” he lied. 

Luke was suddenly sure the woman who’d given Hermione the necklace was the same one who’d told him about his true love when he was eighteen. It just seemed silly—and a bit awkward—to talk about his own encounter at the moment. 

“Well,” Hermione said, holding out the necklace to him once more, “it’s yours now.”

Unsure what to expect, Luke slowly held out his left hand. 

At first, the crystal was cool to the touch. But moments later, it became warm and began changing colour. Like wind rippling over a sand dune, the colourless surface slowly turned into a rich green. Beautiful music reached Luke’s ears, and he realized it came from the crystal. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. It had the wisdom of its own. It told him of things he’d never known. 

It told him that it _chose_ Luke, and he was meant to use it in his new lightsaber. 

* * *

The hangar bay buzzed with activity. Luke and his friends weren’t the only ones leaving the base today. Hermione and six volunteers were departing for the Jenkata system on the _Gryffindor_. 

Luke had been right. When Hermione had requested volunteers to join her on this mission, more than half of the base offered to go. Leia had been the one to handpick six of them. Luke was particularly happy that Wedge was one of the people Leia had chosen. Not that he wasn’t happy about the rest of the team—he barely knew them, to be honest. If Leia had thought they were the right people for the job, then he’d trust her judgement. Wedge, however, Luke knew. And he felt better knowing that his friend would be there for Hermione. She was quite capable on her own, of course, but it was always nice to have someone watch your back. 

As Luke prepared to board the _Millenium Falcon_ , he double-checked his gear and watched the rebels and droids buzzing around the bay as they completed their final tasks before departure. At the tail section of the _Falcon_ , Leia and Hermione were talking, somber looks on their faces. 

“So, what do you think of her?” asked Wedge as he approached Luke, nodding in the direction of the two women. 

A backpack was slung over one of Wedge’s shoulders, and he set it down by his feet. He was obviously referring to Hermione.

Luke, unthinking and slightly distracted, blurted out, “I’m trying not to.” 

Wedge smirked and gave him a knowing look. 

“What?” asked Luke, confused. 

And then it hit him. He exhaled and shook his head. 

“It’s not like that,” he said, but even to his own ears, the words sounded like a lie. “I’m just worried. She’s a friend, and she’s going on a dangerous mission. Just like you.”

That part wasn’t a lie. He had a bad feeling about the mission. A feeling that he might never see some—or potentially all—of these people again. 

And then there was that vision—the one Luke had seen a week ago at sunrise, when he’d held Hermione’s hands. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was the first and last thing he thought of when he woke up and retired for bed; it was always at the back of his mind as he went about his daily tasks. 

What did it mean? He wished he could talk about it to someone, but who? Ben and Yoda were still giving him the silent treatment, and he couldn’t possibly discuss it with Hermione herself. Nor with Leia. 

“Sure, Luke,” said Wedge, still grinning and clearly not believing him. 

He held a hand out to Luke. Luke took it. 

“Take care of yourself,” Wedge said, shaking Luke’s hand. “And bring Han back.”

“Will do,” said Luke solemnly. “You take care as well. And . . . watch over her, will ya?” he finished, nodding in Hermione’s direction. 

Wedge’s grin grew wider. 

“She forgets to eat and sleep,” said Luke. “Someone has to remind her.”

It sounded lame, but Wedge seemed to accept it. 

“Sure thing, Luke.” 

Wedge picked up his backpack, and with a final goodbye, headed towards the _Gryffindor_. 

His gear in order, Luke began making his way towards the _Falcon_. As he drew closer, he could hear Leia and Hermione’s conversation more clearly. 

“ . . . and please don’t do anything foolish,” said Leia. 

Hermione smiled. “How can I?” she teased, her gaze falling upon approaching Luke. “You lot are taking all the foolish with you.” 

“I’ll be the first to admit that our plan is a little crazy,” Luke said, returning Hermione’s smile. 

“A little?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. 

“But it’s still incomplete, so there’s hope for us yet.”

The three of them chuckled, enjoying this last moment of peace in each other’s company.

They were interrupted when Kristan, one of the rebels chosen for Hermione’s mission, emerged from the _Gryffindor_. 

“General Granger!” he called. “Preflight checks are complete, and everyone is assembled. We’re ready to depart.”

“Thank you, lieutenant,” Hermione replied. 

“Well,” she said, moving to embrace Leia, “be safe. And I’ll see you very soon.”

“You better,” said Leia, holding onto her friend tightly.

A short eternity later, they pulled away and exchanged a tremulous smile. Unshed tears glistened in both of their eyes. 

Then Hermione turned to Luke and embraced him as well. 

She didn’t say anything for a moment, and then: “Make sure you all come back,” she whispered. 

“You too,” he whispered back.

She didn’t immediately pull away, and neither did Luke. For a brief, wild moment, he was tempted to kiss her. Not in a romantic way, he told himself. Just on the cheek. The way Leia had kissed him back on the first Death Star, shortly after they’d met—for good luck. 

But the moment was gone, and Hermione pulled away. Luke shivered involuntarily, feeling cold at the loss of contact. 

With a final smile, Hermione turned and headed for the _Gryffindor._ Luke stared after her until she disappeared inside. 

“She’ll be alright,” said Leia beside him, squeezing his shoulder.

Luke nodded. 

“I hope so.”


End file.
